


12 Ways to Romance Your Karl

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Christmas, Embedded Images, F/M, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Polyamory, fuckyeahurbine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Putting the 'Chris' back in 'Christmas,' Or: Long Distance Relationships are Really Fun if You're Rich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	12 Ways to Romance Your Karl

**Author's Note:**

> (aka 12 cheesy-ass Christmas ficlets/drabbles/etc I wrote for [fuckyeahurbine](http://fuckyeahurbine.tumblr.com) over the 12 days of Christmas 2013 into January 2014) (rated adult mostly for Chris’s inability to avoid f-bombs but also for some dick jokes and payoff porn, warning for polyamory if that’s not yo thang)

**Day 1**

Karl ignores the phone buzzing in his pocket for as long as he can stand it, before pulling it out and making sure it’s not an emergency. Instead, it’s a video message, and he has to admit, his curiosity is piqued. He stands, looking at his family. “Ten minute break?”

The kids, all awash in wrapping paper and new electronics, barely grunt at him, but Nat nods up at him with a smile. He smushes the bright ribbon bow gently down on top of her head and kisses her briefly. “Be right back.”

The summer sun is hiding, but at least it's not a raining at that very moment. He pokes at his phone screen, on which is displayed an unwashed-looking Chris Pine.

"Hello, Mr Urban," he says—said? Bloody timezones—shifting in his seat a little. "Pardon the mess," he continues, gesturing circularly at his face, "but it’s fucking difficult to find five seconds to myself in my family around Christmas, so it’s—" He checks his watch, and a corner of Karl’s mouth turns up. "—oh fuck it’s six am and I haven’t been up this early on Christmas eve since I was like seven, but I have to get this done before—" He stops short, and looks sheepishly at the camera. "Yeah. Anyway."

He spread his hands out wide, his white shirt stretching, wrinkling. “Merry Christmas, Karl Urban.”

He drops his hands. One of them goes to the back of his neck. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty fucking bummed to not be able to spend it with you, so…” He shrugs. “So here’s the next best thing. Or—here’s a thing. A thing for you, okay?”

He clears his throat. “The, um, Twelve Days of Christmas are kind of a big deal for my family, well, my mother really, so I figure—You won’t mind twelve days of my pale-ass face, right?” He smiles, but it’s nervous, not quite on. “Right. Okay. Day One is just… just a song. Don’t… Don’t laugh, alright?”

He takes a deep breath—and Karl finds he’s holding his own, deep in his chest, the warm air inside and out—and starts on a cigarette-and-7am-laced version of ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ that pretty much breaks Karl’s heart. He’s never paid attention to the words before, maybe? But it’s fucking sad, really. _Through the years, we all will be together, if the Fates allow…_

When the song is done, Chris trails off, and it’s weird to see him so unsure, but singing is somehow more intimate than speaking, something Karl knows from being so crap at it, and he feels it, feels silly and privileged all at once.

Chris onscreen clears his throat again. “Yeah. So. That’s Day One. I… Well.” He smiles again, and it reaches his eyes, little wrinkles becoming big ones, and Karl wants to reach out into the tiny screen and— “I miss you, okay?

"Okay." He breathes out visibly, leaning back a little. "Okay, that’s today—uh, tomorrow, I guess—and there will be more tomorrow. The next day. What the fuck ever—" and that dissolves into a laugh. "Take care, okay. Have a great day. Give my love to Nat and the kids."

He looks one last time at the camera, and Karl feels the love hit him between the eyes. He rubs his free hand over his heart and watches the screen go black. He wants to watch it again, and again, wants to show Nat because she’ll love it, too, but—but he also wants to keep it, keep it new and to himself. Keep it next to his heart.

He looks at the screen, now blank, one last time, then pockets the phone. His heart is full, his face is ridiculous with smiling. He’s the luckiest bugger in the world. And he’s still got eleven days to go.

 

**Day 2**

The next day is naught but an email—

_And my mother told me not to go to art school._

—and Karl laughs for hours.

 

**Day 3**

The third day, they have a real lie-in, which is blissful, then when they can hear the boys going from rough-housing to house-breaking, Nat shoves him out of bed because it’s his turn to make coffee. He’s standing there blinking at the coffee machine for a third of the pot before he even notices there’s a brightly wrapped box beside it on the counter. With a bow, even. And a huge sticky note full of chicken scratch.

_I checked with Nat to make sure you didn’t already have this, even though it’s technically not out yet. Frankly, I was surprised to hear you didn’t. Must be love if we’re willing to enable your geeky obsessions._

Karl doesn’t even try to act like an adult, he just tears at the paper until it’s small pieces scattered on the kitchen tiles. Then he lets out a whoop.

"I made a place for it in the study especially," Nat says from beside him, and suddenly he’s got boys swooping in to try and grab the box out of his hand, clamouring to see what’s got their father so excited so early in the morning.

Karl holds it up and out of their reach, and Nat laughs, gathering Indy to her when he whines. “Sorry, no, this one is Dad’s, eh?”

"It’s from America," Karl says, purposefully trying to make it sound like he thinks it’s super-exotic. "From Uncle Chris."

"Oh," Hunter says, shrugging, and Indy narrows his eyes at it for another second before shrugging as well. "Boring."

Karl suppresses a laugh. “Yeah, totally boring. And mine.” He crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue; Indy giggles and Hunter rolls his eyes before they both scamper off. Mission accomplished

Nat slides an arm around his waist as the coffee finishes brewing. “He’s certainly got your number, hasn't he?” she says with a grin.

Karl grins back, kissing her on the top of the head. He may or may not already be picturing the statue’s place on their shelves. ”Dunno what you mean.”

She snorts. “Wait’ll you see tomorrow’s.”

He pulls back. “Yeah?”

She puts up her hands. “Let’s just say there’s only so much blinding white skin a person should see, and leave it at that.”

He turns and tugs her closer. “Tease,” he says, kissing her slowly, with holiday leisure.

"Hey," she says into his lips. "You owe me."

"True," he says, grateful down to his bones.

He laughs to himself. _Bones._

“What?” she asks, eyeing him.

He shakes his head, kisses her again. “The statue is awesome. Thank you for elfing.”

"But of course." She smiles up at him. And he’s reminded, yet again, that he really, really is the luckiest bastard in the world.

 

**Day 4**

Karl doesn’t hear from Chris all of the fourth day; every time he opens his mouth to broach the subject, Nat just shakes her head with a little smile. “Unfair,” he grouses while they’re making dinner.

”Quit complaining, big man. No, just pat it like this,” she says to Indy, who seems intent on crushing their lettuce instead of just drying it. She turns her chin back towards Karl but stays focused on guiding little hands. “It’ll just be a couple more hours, think you can handle that?”

"Geez, Dad, have some patience," Hunter’s overly-wise voice counsels from where he’s sitting at the counter looking through recipes on the tablet. (Well, hopefully recipes.) "Besides," he adds, "there’s no way today’s present is going to be as great as yesterday’s."

Karl makes a thoughtful face, considering, but Nat bursts into peals of laughter, and he gives up. “All right, all right, can we all go back to focusing on dinner? I’ll muddle through somehow. Who’s setting the table?”

Hunter and Indy scramble to the other side of the kitchen to fetch tableware, and Karl leans down to Nat. “This better be worth it, woman.”

She snorts. “Oh, it is.”

Dinner and Settlers of Catan are awesome but go really, really slowly. Finally the kids are scrubbed and in their rooms and Karl practically tackles Natalie to the couch. She laughs and wriggles beneath him and he almost gets distracted, but the wicked glint in her eyes deters him.

He sits up, an eyebrow raised. “Go and get the tablet,” she instructs. He does as requested, then she’s up and leading him to the study. “Sit,” she says, taking the tablet from him and pointing at the big recliner they have in there for reading. His eyebrow goes up again, but he sits, and she rolls her eyes as she taps on the tablet’s screen.

After she’s gotten it at the right place, she hands it to him, then bends down. “Just press play; it’s a slideshow. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She kisses him on the cheek and walks towards the door. “Oh,” she says as she’s nearly out, “and call him afterwards.”

Karl shakes his head with a grin. “Okay, okay, enough with the mystery act. I’ll see you in a bit.”

The door closes on her chuckling, and Karl stares at the tablet warily. The screencap is just Chris’s face, and Karl’s not sure what to expect—

But whatever it is he _might_ have expected, it is _not_ what he gets.

—

He’s still laughing ten minutes later, wiping his eyes as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hits the proper buttons.

"You know you loved it," comes with no preamble.

Karl huffs a laugh. “[ _Penis Pokey_](http://www.amazon.com/Penis-Pokey-Christopher-Behrens/dp/1594741484), Pine?”

"Satisfying alliteration aside, I think the words you’re _actually_ looking for are much less family-friendly.”

"Just tell me you washed the book before you put it back on the shelf."

"Nah, I sent it to Quinto."

Karl clutches at his stomach as he laughs. “Holy shit,” he wheezes, “Where did you even come from?”

He can hear the grin over the phone. “Your wildest dreams.”

"Shut up."

"Heaven?"

"Shut _up_. Los Angeles is pretty far from heaven, mate.”

"So I’ve been told, but I seem to do fine."

Karl leans back, the tablet forgotten on his lap. “It’s better here.”

"Sheep make me sneeze."

Karl snorts. Then something occurs to him. "Why on earth did my wife see these pictures before I did?”

"She only saw a couple of them."

"Doesn’t answer my question."

"Well— Because…" Chris sounds vaguely embarrassed, and Karl can picture him with his fingers in front of his mouth. "Because I cleared all of this with her first, of course. All twelve things."

Karl’s stomach tightens with an altogether different emotion. “Yeah?”

"Yeah, man. All evidence to the contrary, I’m not a total dick."

They both start laughing at the same time. By the time they sober up, the moment’s gone, but Karl says it anyway. “Thank you.”

He half expects some shitty comedic reply, but is relieved when there’s a moment of silence, then, “You’re welcome. I… you’re worth it.”

And Karl tries, he really tries, but he can’t say much to that. Not from across the globe. He just has to store it up, for the next time, even though he’s not sure when that’ll be. “So are you, mate. Trust me.”

Chris makes a hmm-ing noise, then clears his throat. “So. It’s late.”

"Yeah."

"I’ve got work tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"This is only day four."

Karl chuckles. “I don’t think you could out-do a slideshow of your dick dressed up like a banana.”

"You loved it."

"Yeah."

Chris clears his throat. “Till tomorrow, yeah?”

"Yeah, sure. Sleep well."

"You too. Bye."

"Bye."

The phone goes black. Karl stares at the screen for a long time, not caring about the soft smile on his face.

 

**Day 5**

There’s a package waiting by his lunch. It’s not wrapped like a present, but that’s probably because it’s so obviously book-shaped. Karl takes in a breath and puts his eyes towards the heavens, steeling himself for some gigantic, ponderous tome. Rilke. Faulkner.

He’s therefor incredibly pleasantly surprised when he finds a first edition copy of _A Game of Thrones_. He just holds it for a second, then opens it to find it’s—of course—signed.

Karl may or may not hug it to his chest.

—

_To Princess Pine  
1:02pm_

_If you’re going for a prize in gift-giving perfection, you’re winning._

_From Princess Pine  
1:02pm_

_Hey, I’m just trying to get laid._

_To Princess Pine  
1:16pm_

_OMW_

_From Princess Pine  
2:00pm_

_How do you even know text-speak?_

_To Princess Pine  
2.02pm_

_Hunter stole my phone._

_From Princess Pine  
2:27pm_

_Let me guess, my name has also been changed to Pantsless Pine._

_To Princess Pine  
4:00pm_

_You’re not far off._

—

"Hunter," he admonishes later, "please don’t mess about with my phone."

Hunter doesn’t even look up from the laptop. “Sorry.”

"Yeah, you sound really sorry."

"Whatever, I bet he liked it."

"…he did."

"Duh."

"Duh?"

"Yeah, he’s pretty cool."

Karl raises an eyebrow. Hunter huffs a sigh. “He’s awesome, all right, and funny and smart and makes cool movies and you seem to like him and he’s really—he’s really good to you.”

Karl is momentarily speechless. They don’t go into detail with the kids about their marriage, but now he sees, one way or the other, that he doesn’t really have to. “Well. Yes. I agree with all of those statements.” He tries to think around the lump in his throat. “And… thank you.”

Hunter rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Can I go back to my homework now?”

Karl lets out a laugh, then reaches out to ruffle the kid’s hair, a movement Hunter easily dodges. “Aye, aye. I have a book to read, anyway.”

He’s almost out of the room before he hears Hunter mutter something that sounds suspiciously like, “Why did I get the dad that’s a geek.”

With that, and the thought of the book waiting for him, Karl may or may not rub his hands together in glee.

 

**Day 6**

His phone pings at like, 6am. Nat swats at him, but she’s mostly awake, and besides, “You okay’d all of this,” Karl murmurs to her, ignoring the phone in favor of wrapping himself around her. When he does get to the email an hour later—on an actual computer because that tiny phone screen is annoying—he’s still in his pajamas, sipping his first cup of coffee, half awake but very pleased with life, indeed.

The email is a little weird. But he’s used to Chris’s mercurial nature, so he just rolls with it.

_Hi._

_So, this is going to be a little different, because it’s about me, but I swear it’ll make sense at the end. Or at least, it will if I’ve done it correctly._

_Here’s the thing: My formative years were in the 90s, and spent on the west coast. For my people, my tribe, mix tapes were a Thing. A coming of age ritual, and a courting ritual. Actual cassette tapes gave way to mix cds sometime in college, and now of course it’s all digital, but the concept is the same, and sacred. Really, really sacred. It’s trying to communicate passive-aggressively through a medium more intimate than mere words. It’s trying to find stuff you like that another person might like, too. It’s proselytizing, it’s seduction, it’s a whole lot of everything._

_Here’s the other thing: I absolutely suck at making them. I know I absolutely suck at them; girls have always said I was hopeless in more ways than one._

_But, ridiculous though they and I might be, mix tapes are still sacred. Still important statements from one person to another, regardless of how ridiculous it seems or how awkward mine are._

_So, here’s one. For you. From me. Not rocket science, but for some reason I can’t stop typing._

_For the record: You’re allowed to laugh. I certainly fucking do._

_Just be glad I refrained from Boyz II Men._

_Chris_

| **[streaming](http://8tracks.com/thalialunacy/sixth-day-of-urbine) | [download](https://app.box.com/s/g2rsukpjgru4kb2w272a)** |

 

**Day 7**

_Today is actually mostly from Zach. He says he’s going to make it a tradition, make next year’s Bruce (Willis, Lee, Greenwood, or Campbell, he’s not sure). He says it’s making a statement about normative Christmas celebrations. Or something._

_All I know is that we were really stoned, and now you have to share in the consequences. Because we made a tree of your face._

_The feather boa one’s my favorite. Cupid’s supposed to be the angel at the top. We sat around saying ‘Merry Karlmas’ to each other all night._

_Come on, admit it, we’re hilarious._

Karl tries not to laugh, really tries, but fails. 

 

**Day 8**

_From Princess Pine  
12:32pm_

_I hope you like haiku._

Karl eyes his phone screen warily.

_From Princess Pine  
12:32pm_

__**Oh Kiwi Karl  
** **Your hair flip is fabulous**  
**Such a sexy dork**

_From Princess Pine  
12:44_

_I understand if you need to take a moment._

 

**Day 9**

_Zach found out I read a lot of Auden in college, and says I’m leveling up. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds ominous._

**As I Walked Out One Evening**  
(by [W. H. Auden](http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/120))

As I walked out one evening,  
Walking down Bristol Street,  
The crowds upon the pavement  
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river  
I heard a lover sing  
Under an arch of the railway:  
’Love has no ending.

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you  
Till China and Africa meet,  
And the river jumps over the mountain  
And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean  
Is folded and hung up to dry  
And the seven stars go squawking  
Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,  
For in my arms I hold  
The Flower of the Ages,  
And the first love of the world.’

But all the clocks in the city  
Began to whirr and chime:  
'O let not Time deceive you,  
You cannot conquer Time.

'In the burrows of the Nightmare  
Where Justice naked is,  
Time watches from the shadow  
And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry  
Vaguely life leaks away,  
And Time will have his fancy  
To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley  
Drifts the appalling snow;  
Time breaks the threaded dances  
And the diver’s brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,  
Plunge them in up to the wrist;  
Stare, stare in the basin  
And wonder what you’ve missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,  
The desert sighs in the bed,  
And the crack in the tea-cup opens  
A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes  
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,  
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,  
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,  
O look in your distress:  
Life remains a blessing  
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window  
As the tears scald and start;  
You shall love your crooked neighbour  
With your crooked heart.’

It was late, late in the evening,  
The lovers they were gone;  
The clocks had ceased their chiming,  
And the deep river ran on.

_With all my crooked heart,_

_Chris_

 

**Day 10**

Karl wakes up to his alarm on Friday, because he has, of all things, a dentist’s appointment. He tries not to pounce on his phone after putting the coffee on, but when he does and he sees no message from Chris, he feels like he’s being doubly punished. He may or may not pout into his coffee.

The dentist is quite a nice lady, and she only scolds him because it’s her job, and he talks the receptionist into giving him a lolly so it’s all in all not as bad as he was making it out to be, but when he gets home he’s alright with the fact that the house is empty so he can put his pyjamas back on and grump around as much as he wants.

Then his phone pings.

_My favorite superhero has always been Batman,_ the email says. _Not because of the angst or anything, nor because of Catwoman (although…tempting), but because he doesn’t really have any superpowers. He’s just kind of a smart guy with a lot of intuition and stubborn pride._

Karl has no idea where this is going, but it’s pretty entertaining as it is. He himself is more of a fan of the Burton Batman era, but he’s glad for Nolan spreading the love. So to speak.

_Go look in your closet, behind that one suit you never wear because it pinches your balls._ And how Chris even knows about that, Karl’s not sure—Oh, Nat, probably, he muses as he goes to follow instructions. And when he gets there, he’s not sure why he was ever expecting anything different.

The Batman costume is rubbery and amazing under his fingers.

_I figured since you haven’t been able to tick this off your list yet, I’d help you out. This means you get Geek Bingo, right?_

Karl snorts and swipes at the screen.

_To Princess Pine  
12:47pm_

_Cheeky little shit._

_From Princess Pine  
12:48pm_

_Hey I helped you get Bingo. I deserve some recompense for that._

_To Princess Pine  
12:52pm_

_I’ll give you a high five next time I see you._

_From Princess Pine  
12:59pm_

_I hope that’s a metaphor. Although for what, I don’t know. I don’t have five of anything except fingers and toes._

_To Princess Pine  
1:01pm_

_Pine._

_From Princess Pine  
1:01pm_

_What._

_To Princess Pine  
1:02pm_

_Thank you._

_From Princess Pine  
1:03pm_

_Oh._

_From Princess Pine  
1:03pm_

_Thank me later._

Karl raises an eyebrow at the phone, but decides not to ask.

_To Princess Pine  
1:05pm_

_Will do._

 

**Day 11**

Karl wakes upon the eleventh day to find a post-it on his nose.

”What the—” He plucks it off and squints at it. 

"Wife…" he grumbles, rolling over and half-squishing her beneath him.

She chuckles into his shoulder as she adjusts their positions into a slightly more dignified pile. “I’m not the one dating him.”

"But you _are_ the one enabling him.”

"Would you like me to stop?"

Karl heaves an overly-dramatic put-upon sigh. “S’pose not. Only two days left, after all. I can probably manage to survive that long.”

She snorts. “I daresay you can.”

He noses sleepily at her hairline. ”So where’s the next clue?”

She moves back enough to peer up at him, her eyes mocking him good-naturedly. “I’m sorry? You’re asking for help already?”

"What? No!"

She settles back into him. “That’s what I thought.”

—

Predictably, on the coffee-maker, is a post-it with—Karl thinks—a picture of a log on it, and a number one on the back.

"Okay…"

"That means it’s the first clue," Nat says, incredibly helpfully. He sticks his tongue out at her.

—-

There’s one on the steering wheel of the Range Rover. It’s a cube, with an arrow pointing to it. “Uh.”

Hunter looks over his shoulder. “Side.”

Karl blinks. “Oh. Sure. Yeah. That’s what I was thinking.”

The kid has the audacity to smirk at him.

—

There’s one stuck on Indy’s forehead when Karl picks him up from his mate’s house. It’s… it’s a Basset hound, with its mouth open like it’s howling at the moon. “Seriously?”

Indy plucks it off himself, and looks at it. “Woof?”

Karl shrugs, then pockets the note and guides him to the car with a hand to the back of the head. “Bark?”

"I dunno," Indy replies as they buckle in. "What are the other ones you have so far?"

"Uh… log and side."

"Log?"

"Yeah, log or I guess wood. Wood, side, and—"

They say it at the same time. “Woodside Bay!”

"Baying," Karl says, shaking his head. "The hound is baying."

"Chris is smart. Did he go to Harvard?"

Karl raises an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been watching too much television. No, he did not. He went to a… medium-hard university.”

"Well, these notes are like he went to Harvard."

Karl chuckles. “Harvard would be flattered.”

—

The fourth one is a map of Japan. With an arrow pointing to one of the islands.

"What the actual—" He glances across the room to where the boys are lounging. "—heck. Middle? East? Ring of Fire? I have no idea what he’s going for, here."

Nat’s trying not to smile, he can tell from the way her lips twitch. “You’re complifying.”

"Island?"

"Got it in four."

He tosses the post-it in to the air. “Great.”

"Hey, if this were golf, you’d be winning. Unlike when you actually play golf."

"Minx."

—-

The fifth one is ridiculous— it’s a group of clouds, with some sort of golden light streaming out of them, and halos all around. “Heaven?”

Nat looks pointedly at the bottom of the note, where there’s a minus sign and the letter ‘e’. “Heaven minus ‘e’. Haven?”

She ruffles his hair. “You’re so smart. You should’ve gone to Harvard.”

He pokes at her side. She squeaks indignantly. “Shut it.” He kisses her. “I’m so smart I should be Batman, is what you’re saying.”

Her laugh echoes through the house.

—

And there’s one on his toothbrush that night. It’s not pictures, though, just numbers. Numbers that look like— “One, five, fourteen? Does he mean five-one-fourteen? Is he talking about tomorrow?”

Nat’s eyes meet his in the mirror. “He really is.”

"This five-one-five can’t actually mean five fifteen in the morning, though, can it?"

"It was a last minute flight booking."

"Flight— You mean—" He stares at her, then at the sticky note. "Woodside Bay. Island… Haven… Is that one of those ridiculously posh houses for rent on Waiheke?"

She steps up to him, sliding her arms around his waist and kissing the underside of his chin briefly. “Harvard missed out on you, big man.”

He can’t help the huge grin on his face. He tugs her in, wraps her in his arms. She’s so tiny and gorgeous. “Yeah?”

"Yeah. He’ll be there, tomorrow morning. Waiting, I daresay, for you."

He pulls a face. “That means I should get sleep tonight, doesn’t it?”

She shakes her head. “Sadly, yes.”

He kisses her nose, her cheeks, even dips down to kiss her chin. “But I need to thank you.”

She laughs. “I hardly think that’ll take all night,” she says, her eyes twinkling.

"Oh-ho," he says, then he swings her up into his arms and carries her out into the bedroom. "I’ll take that challenge."

—

(He gets just enough sleep. Barely.)

 

**Day 12**

Anticipation simmers from the moment he wakes up. Unfortunately (fortunately?) the earliest ferry he can get is 6am, and the sail takes an hour, then driving to the place takes twenty minutes. He finds it easily enough, and knows he shouldn’t be surprised by how posh it is but he is anyway. He sits in his car for a minute, looking at the house and feeling anticipation surge in his veins.

There’s no activity in response to his arrival, so he figures Chris to be asleep. When he finally gets to the front door, though, overnight bag in hand, there’s a post-it.

Turns out that he’s _in_ the pool, though floating more than swimming, making the water ripple prettily, his eyes on the sky but unfocused. Karl just watches for a moment. It’s a whole lot more peaceful than his daily life. Then he feels slightly creepy, so he drops into a crouch by the edge, bag dropped a few feet back, and waves.

"Hey," he says, and he barely has to say it before Chris is splashing upright and coming towards him.

"Hey. Listen. I know you’re dry and I’m not but—" Chris reaches the side of the pool and reaches out with both hands, cupping Karl’s face eagerly. Karl holds his ground but lets himself get kissed a bit messily, wetness on Chris’s hands and in Chris’s mouth. He tastes of chlorine and jetlag, and when he pulls away, Karl instinctively tries to follow.

He hears Chris’s chuckle at the same time his other, more helpful instincts kick in and keep him from tipping forward into the water. He laughs a little, himself. Sometimes they’re like teenagers, stupid and horny.

He stands, goes over to fetch the towel Chris had left on one of the deck chairs, then turns just in time to watch Chris haul himself out of the water.

His throat goes a little dry.

Chris catches him looking, and grins. He poses, a little ridiculously, even flexes. “Sure you don’t wanna join me?”

Karl snorts and holds out the towel. “I only brought so many changes of clothes.”

Chris gets well inside Karl’s personal bubble before he takes the proffered towel. Karl’s eyes flick to his lips, and Chris makes a funny sound in his throat. “Go put your stuff in the bedroom before I change my mind.”

Karl tilts his head back and laughs, which effectively dials the tension back to a low simmer. “You sound like a trashy romance novel.”

"You love it." Chris’s words are muffled by the towel he’s scrubbing over his face.

Karl picks up his bag and heads inside. “Touché.”

—-

Chris finds him standing in the biggest of the three bedrooms, staring out the wall of windows. It’s a fantastic view.

"Pretty sweet pad, right?"

"Gorgeous," Karl admits. "How did you find it?"

Chris shrugs. “I know a guy.”

"You know a guy?"

"I know a guy from high school. Who’s a travel agent."

"Ah."

"Hey, I know how to use my resources."

"Well, your resources rented you a mansion."

"Uh, yeah, I…" Chris rubs the back of his neck. "I figured we could have the family over? Tomorrow. I know it’s like, five minutes from home but I remember being a kid and how going _anywhere_ different was cool—”

This time, it’s Karl who’s got Chris’s face framed with his hands, Karl who’s kissing Chris like he’s water in the desert. “Well,” Chris says in between kisses. “I guess that’s a yes.”

Karl’s hands pluck at the waist of Chris’s still-damp board shorts. “Off,” he says into Chris’s jaw.

"Okay, okay." He’s barely done following the order when Karl’s hauling him to the bed. "Hey, you’re not going to allow me the same honor?"

"My clothes aren’t all wet."

"There are like four other beds we can ruin first," Chris protests, not actually dismayed, but still, naked and standing in the middle of a room while Karl Urban lounges fully clothed on the bed. "Not to mention countertops and tables and—"

"Pine."

"What."

"Help me out here?" And he smirks, cocks an eyebrow, and gestures at his pants.

Chris laughs, loudly, and heads gamely towards the bed.

—-

The first time they’re too eager; they can’t seem to stop kissing, and Karl’s cock is barely out of his pants before Chris has a hand wrapped around them both, tight and fast and rough.

"I’m not going to last," Karl grunts against Chris’s mouth.

"Duh," Chris says roughly, "neither am I. That’s the point." He shakes his head, kisses the corner of Karl’s mouth, his jaw. "It’s been _months_ , Urban.”

Karl clutches at him, hard, when he comes.

—-

He laughs when Chris suggests using his shorts for clean-up. “Gross.”

"Not as gross as having to actually leave the room."

"The bathroom isn’t exactly a hike, Pine."

Chris grumbles and shoves his nose at Karl’s armpit, tangles their legs together, angles himself in. “I don’t care.”

Karl’s heart tightens in his chest. He holds on for a while, as long as he’ll let himself, but eventually the grown-up in him wins out, and he rolls off the bed towards the bathroom.

"Aww, now I’m cold," Chris calls.

"Go make us some food, then!" Karl calls back. When he hears nothing further, he assumes his advice has been followed. When he’s done in the bathroom, Chris isn’t in bed, but his voice in the kitchen stops Karl before he can venture further into the house. "Stay where you are! I’m bringing it in."

Karl raises an eyebrow, then shrugs and heads towards his overnight bag. He unpacks the few things he brought with him, then settles back into bed, naked and clean, with his newest bookly acquisition.

"Of course you’re one of those people that actually reads signed books," comes at him from the doorway before too long. Chris is standing there with a tray of food, which he then brings to the bed. They eat on top of the covers, at least. "I bet you actually take the action figures out of the packaging, too, don’t you?"

"Duh, how else would I play with them?" Karl says with a grin. He eyes the food, then picks up an apple slice. "I appreciate that you didn’t call them dolls, though."

"I know better," Chris says through a cracker. "Is that book really all that great?"

Karl thwaps him on the head. “Don’t even.”

Chris holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. Geek.”

"Oh, I’m sorry, I was under the impression you liked that part of me."

"I do," Chris admits easily. "I love that you’re so passionate about it."

"And yet?"

"And yet I reserve the right to mock you for it, yes."

Karl snatches the now-mostly empty tray up and heads towards the kitchen. “Fine,” he says when he gets back to the bedroom. “Then I get to mock you, as well.”

Chris makes a sweeping gesture with his free hand; the other is behind his head as he lounges on the bed. “Feel free.”

Karl crosses his arms and looks at him. “I see you’re back to the manscaping. Role?”

"Nah," Chris replies, lazily skimming a hand over his chest. His grin turns cocky. "Heard you liked it."

Karl tries not to blush. He probably fails. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he says as he climbs back onto the bed, on top of Chris, slotting their legs together easily.

"I’ll refrain from the most obvious comeback to that," Chris says as he runs his hands over Karl’s shoulders and down his back, "and just say I enjoy being anywhere near your ass. In fact…" He pushes at Karl’s chest. "Over."

Karl pushes back but doesn’t quite comply. “Chris…”

"Just do it." He manoeuvres until he can slide out from under Karl and settle behind him. "We’ll call it a Christmas present."

"For me or you?" Karl says as he pushes up onto all fours.

"Hopefully, both, Jesus." The last is more like an exhale than a word, because Chris is apparently just that taken with the sight in front of him. Karl’s pretty taken with the feeling of Chris’s lips and tongue, so he’ll accept it and move on, dropping his head to his forearms and not holding back the appreciative noises that come forth so easily. It feels really fucking good, all right.

Chris chuckles into his skin, and Karl guesses he just said as much out loud. He’d blush, but, well, he’s not the one with his tongue up somebody’s ass. Oh, and now a finger. “Ah…” Karl grunts, surprised but receptive. “So that’s how it’s going to be.”

"That okay?" Chris murmurs, his lips hot on Karl’s already-warm skin.

"Yeah, ‘course," Karl manages, barely though because Chris has just added another finger. "Fucking of course, Jesus. Feels amazing."

"Looks pretty fucking amazing, too." Chris’s voice is rough, so rough, and Karl suddenly wants to see his face. Sappy idiot that he is.

"Then—" Karl pulls forward and reaches for where he’d just put the necessities. Chris’s fingers fall away, and Karl regrets his decision for a moment, but when he rolls over and finds Chris hovering above him, muscles flexing and pupils dilated, Karl decides it’s best idea he ever had.

He secures his knees around Chris’s torso, then leans up to kiss him. Chris makes a noise in his mouth, surprised, but Karl knows what he’s getting himself into, and licks into Chris’s mouth without worry.

Soon he has a sweaty, groaning mess of Pine rutting against him. He presses the condom and lube into his chest. “Please. Come on.”

Chris just nods, and kisses Karl one more time before focusing on the task at hand. Once he’s got everything slick and covered and lined up, he’s immediately back to the kissing, and Karl is pleased by this because when Chris finally pushes into him, their groans reverberate into each other’s mouths, and he feels so ridiculously connected he kind of wants to cry. Sappy sappy _sap_ that he is.

Then Chris kisses at the corner of his eye. “Okay?”

Karl tightens his grip. “Yeah, okay.” He looks up into Chris’s eyes and grins, tipping his hips pointedly. “More than. Get to it, Pine.”

And Chris does, oh does he ever, snapping his hips, peppering Karl with kisses, chanting curses and Karl’s name and a whole lot of nonsense until they’re both mindless, Karl gripping Chris’s back so hard he’s sure it’ll leave marks and not being able to bring himself to care, especially when Chris shifts so he can palm Karl’s cock, because Karl's done for.

"Fuck," Chris wheezes as he watches Karl’s come spread across his stomach. "Fuck, you’re—" And he comes with a groan, head dropping into the pillow and lips finding Karl’s shoulder.

"I’m what?" Karl asks after a second, cheeky as all get out.

Chris huffs a laugh. “A jerk.”

Karl clears his throat and flexes a few choice muscles.

"Perfect, I mean, you’re perfect—ah—fuck—"

"That’s what I thought."

—-

Chris gets out of bed first this time. “Stay there.”

Karl doesn’t argue, and when Chris comes back with a washcloth he’s never been more grateful.

Eventually, they settle, sexed out and jetlagged, at least on Chris’s part. Karl holds him closely, watching him watch the view. “So,” he finally says, because he can’t help himself. “The twelve days of Christmas, eh?”

Chris shrugs. “Yeah. It’s… I always hate how there’s all this build-up, then BAM, Christmas, and that’s all you get.”

"Hannakuh envy."

Chris laughs. “Yeah, probably. So I figured, instead of getting you a bunch of things at once, I’d, you know, drag it out.”

"Isn’t tomorrow Epiphany?"

Chris coughs. “Yeah, so?”

"So what do I get for Epiphany?"

Chris’s neck is starting to flush, past the sex-glow. “Karl.”

"What?" He rubs a hand on Chris’s ribcage, under his heart. "Or is Epiphany the day _you_ finally get a gift?”

Karl must’ve hit the bulls-eye because Chris nearly squirms. He’d feel bad, but somebody’s gotta be the grown-up, here.

But Chris is stubborn. “Can we… Listen, it’s sappy bullshit, okay, I know, but—”

"Do you want to talk about how I almost just cried during sex because I had missed you so much?"

Chris’s mouth snaps shut. “Really?

Karl nods. “So. Epiphany. Was I supposed to get you something?”

"No," Chris says immediately. Then he looks at Karl, really looks at him, all open and quiet. "You’re my epiphany," he finally says.

Karl’s throat closes up as all the layers sink in. “Oh.”

"Yeah, exactly. I never thought… You know." He puts his hand on Karl’s chest, mirroring Karl’s earlier motion. "I never thought I’d be here."

Karl doesn’t know what to say to that, except, “I’m really fucking glad you are.”

Chris’s lips twitch. “I figured, what with the groaning and the coming and all.”

"Cheeky." Then something occurs to him. "Hey, I do have a present for you." And he holds up one hand, expectantly.

"What the hell?"

He grins, hugely. “I promised you a high five.”

The pillow to the face he receives instead is not entirely surprising.

**_fin_ **

**Author's Note:**

> [Author's notes: Thanks to everyone at [fuckyeahurbine](http://fuckyeahurbine.tumblr.com) for playing along. Thanks to [janice_lester](http://janice-lester.livejournal.com) for the Kiwi-pick (oh my god, you guys, seriously, she's amazing; she explains everything and isn't condescending at all, it was brilliant); any remaining Americanisms are my own folly. Tons of thanks to the actual perpetrator of [The Karlmas Tree](http://gingersnapbatch.tumblr.com/post/71055813744/you-guys-thought-i-was-joking-i-wasnt-merry), [gingersnapbatch](http://gingersnapbatch.tumblr.com), for giving me permission to use it here. Actual haiku written by [applerepublic](http://applerepublic.tumblr.com) ages ago for a [wee fic/group project](http://archiveofourown.org/works/285478), and used again with permission. Oh and the rental house [does exist](http://staywaiheke.com/?q=holiday-homes/island-haven). I say we meet have a fangirl meetup there, y/y?]


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